Snape Comes for Dinner
by Hasriona 2014
Summary: Snape comes to meet Timmy's parents and er...well, just read to find out...


Timmy, of course, did not share his parents enthusiasm of having his teacher over for dinner. The memories of groping sessions in the changing rooms and endless cheerful patronization from said teacher still rung in his mind. As well as this, Snape frequently invited Dumbledore into the toilet cubicles to do the crossword, whilst Timmy was using the toilet in the same cubicle. When Snape couldn't think of a word he instructed Timmy to shit faster to make him think better. These situations, frankly, disturbed him to the point that Timmy kept imagining Snape sitting on the downstairs toilet, sipping a cup of tea whilst shoving a Yucca plant up his arse.

Snape was set to come the following Saturday evening, and poor Timmy frequently argued with his parents, begging them to not to allow the greasiest man in West Yorkshire to enter their humble abode, but they refused to listen to the tales of a small boy, and snubbed him when he said that Snape was violating his personal bubble.

"Mr Snape is a responsible teacher, Timmy!" his mother lectured. "He wouldn't do such things with his penis!"

"But mother, he does, he does!" he implored.

"That's enough, Timmy! Mr Snape is a qualified teacher! He wouldn't bumrape you whilst singing the national anthem of Kazakhstan, or force you to watch the homemade pornographic films he made!"

"But he has!"

"I said ENOUGH Timmy! Do you want me to get Mr Spanky?"

"What, Snape?"

"What do you mean?"

"That's what he calls himself when he gets feisty..."

"TO YOUR ROOM YOU LITTLE PERVERTED APE!"

"But mum!"

"WHERE'S MR SPANKY?"

"I am here..." said a voice on the landing. It was Snape, in a leather gimp suit with whip.

"Oh..." he said, looking awkward. "Am I early?"

"Mr Snape?" asked the mother.

"Um...wrong place...I'll just be leaving then, see you on Saturday..."

He skipped down the stairs, whipping himself into an erotic frenzy, shouting "Whip me like a whore! Whip me like a bitch! MAN I FEEL LIKE A WOMAN!"

"See what I mean!" pressed Timmy.

"Stop overreacting, that was perfectly ordinary behaviour! If I got twenty pence for every man who waltzed in here dressed in leather thinking they were some sort of long haired women, I would be a very rich bitch!"

The night came, and the house was thoroughly cleaned, dusted, polished and scoured, ready for the arrival of Mr Snape. Timmy's parents were excited at having a guest in their household, but Timmy was, understandably, anxious.

Ten-past eight. The doorbell rang. And rang, and rang, and rang, and still rang, and rang for a bit more, and rang, and rang-

Timmy's father opened the door. There was Mr Snape at the doorway, dressed in a black suit which didn't completely obscure the gimp clothing beneath.

He continued to ring the doorbell.

"Hello, Mr Snape?" said Timmy's father.

Snape slapped him.

"That's for making me waiting..."

"That's perfectly ok."

"Oopsies! Introductions are in order! Hello bitches, I am Professor-I mean, Mr Snape, Timmy's teacher at school. Where is your darling son?"

"Timmy, come and say hello to Mr Snape!"

Reluctantly, Timmy moved to the door.

"Why hello, Timmy-tutums! My-my what wonderful clothes you're wearing! You must be really hot in them, with such a warm summer's night! I won't mind at all if you take them off..."

"I'm fine...thank you..." said Timmy.

"Well, what a darn shame. I'll get you though...", said Snape, suddenly bending down to Timmy's level, his face inches from Timmy's. "I'll get you, little munchkin!" He pinched Timmy's cheeks really hard and picked him up off the floor.

"Well, Mr Snape, we welcome you into our house!"

"Wonderful, wonderful! You won't mind if I use your toilet though; I am going to burst!"

"Yes, that's fine. Timmy, escort Mr Snape to the toilet, please!"

"But mum-"

"TIMMY! Don't let me get out Mr Spanky!"

"I can help you there..." said Snape.

"Fine, follow me to the bathroom, Mr Snape..."

"Gladly! I could follow your little arse to the edge of the rainbow and then rape you in the pot of gold!"

"What?" asked Timmy's mother.

"I said I could follow his little farts to the edge of the rainbow and then tape you in the pot of gold!"

"Oh...that's ok then..."

"Come on, Timmy, bathroom!"

Timmy took him to the upstairs lavatory, trying to ignore the fact that Snape was trying to hug him.

"Come in with me, Timmy, I may need some help!"

"Um...no..."

"PWEASE!" said Snape.

"Um...ok then..."

"Yay! See, you made me happy then!"

The door closes, and a zip is heard being undone.

"I'm ready to burst kiddo!"

Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle.

"Snape, why are you peeing on me!"

"Do you like it?"

"No, and you must have some sort of disease or something, as your pee is white!"

"No, I'm just happy!"

"What!"

"Ooh, I think the dam just broke!"

Waves of white stuff poured from underneath the door as Snape let out a sigh of intense relief.

"Yes, I needed that! Let's go, Timmy!"

"But Snape, I'm covered in your yoghurt!"

"Lick it off! I'm sure you'll love the taste!"

At the dinner table, Timmy's father, Snape and Timmy were seated whilst Timmy's mother worked in the kitchen to produce the roast dinner she was slaving over.

"So, Mr Snape, would you like a drink?" asked Timmy's father, politely.

"Yes, do you any milkshakes?"

"Um...yes...here you are..." said Timmy's father, handing Snape a jar of strawberry milkshake. Snape threw it in his face.

"Dinner's ready!" came the voice of Timmy's mother from the kitchen. "What happened to you?" she asked, looking at her husband.

"Happy time..." said Snape.

"Edwin! You've got to stop doing that when we have guests over!"

"But-"

"No but's butthead! Help me bring the meal in! Hail Hitler!"

"Yes mam..."

Soon, all four of them had a piping hot roast in front of them.

"This looks scrummy, Mrs Smith! But what is that shit..."

"That's my husband..."

"No, not that, that..."

"That's still my husband..."

"Oh. I hope I don't offend you when I say you look like a piece of shit, Mr Smith."

"Thank you. I'll take that as a sincere compliment."

"Good! Then I hope you won't mind when I say that your moustache looks like a dead squirrel forced under your rather honky nose..."

"Thank you..."

"This is a lovely dinner, Mrs Smith!" said Snape, throwing his broccoli and chicken behind him.

"Why thank you, Mr Snape..."

"Not at all..." said Snape, throwing a potato at her. "Oops my hand slipped. Bad, bad hand...no hand-party for you tonight..."

"That's quite alright..."

Snape threw his entire plate at her and she collapsed onto the floor.

"I think she's dead..." said Mr Smith.

"I thought she asked for some more peas...oh well, she has the lot now..." said Snape.

Snape brandished a knife and threw it, and it hit Mr Smith right in the head. He fell onto the floor, like his wife.

"Oopsie daisy! (_really gay wave)_ My hand must of slipped again! I shouldn't use so much lubricant!"

"You killed my parents!"

"Oh shut up, you're not Harry Potter..."

(Awkward silence)

"Anyway...we're all alone, Timmy..."

(Snape starts to giggle)

"What fluffy hair you have!"


End file.
